


The Chase

by writeturnlove



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 17:38:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18721801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeturnlove/pseuds/writeturnlove
Summary: Reader is looking to make a name for herself as an investigative reporter. She sets her sights on doing a feature story about The Winter Soldier; the man who was brainwashed by Hydra, framed for a terrorist attack, and later became a hero. When she tracks him to a small city in Maryland, things get … heated.





	The Chase

 

**The Chase**

By V. C. Turner 

            You followed him into the bar after recognizing him from the newspaper you carried in your purse. For the last five years, reporters had been trying to find The Winter Soldier, but you were more persistent than your competitors. Finding him was the easy part. Getting him to talk to you would be another thing.

            You spent the better part of three years at the news desk, writing for the city beat. Tired of depending on a police scanner for your stories, you wanted to delve deeper into the field of journalism. You didn’t want to just report car accidents, robberies, and criminal cases. You wanted something different. The Winter Soldier, James Buchanan Barnes, offered you that opportunity.

            You just needed to catch him and convince him that a profile for your local newspaper would get the public to see him in a new light. It would also mean a promotion for you as a reporter, and more visibility meant better story assignments.

            On a late Tuesday evening, you slipped into a booth at the far end of a local pub in Frederick, Maryland. You sat silently watching him order a dark colored drink and taking the occasional sip from it as he scanned the other patrons. Was he looking for a good time, a good drink, or a good fuck? None of that really mattered, although it might be a good addition to your article on him.

            Seeing Barnes in person shocked you more than you realized. His black hair fell in waves against his angular jawline and neatly trimmed beard. You got a glimpse of his cobalt blue eyes when he turned around and looked through the crowd for something…or perhaps someone. You felt a strange sensation in your stomach at the thought of him meeting some blonde bombshell or a sexy redhead that he would eventually bed later that night. 

            “None of my business,” you said to yourself, as you fiddled with a napkin the moment his eyes snagged yours in a glance you thought would stop your heart.

            A waitress, a girl slightly old enough to drink, took your drink order and headed to the bar to retrieve it. She brought back your strawberry daiquiri, smiled, and left without another word.

            You pulled out your phone and pretended to text someone when you were really taking pictures of Mr. Barnes. One particular shot of his side profile made you tingle in places you shouldn’t. The man was a killer after all. Sure, he’d changed his ways, but you knew that behind the face of the Romanian God lived a tortured soul you couldn’t save. Not that you wanted to save him. You just wanted to talk to him.

            Just talk.

            So, why were your palms sweaty? Why did your face feel hot the second he glanced in your direction? Why did you have to wear a white blouse when you knew you’d probably be sweating in a hot bar? Why were your panties getting…?

            You shook your head. Yes, the man was handsome, but you wanted to understand him. You wanted your readers to know the man that now wore the mantle of Hero after killing his way through time as an assassin for Hydra. Who was he? Why did he take up residence in a small Maryland city when he could have gone anywhere else in the world to hide?

            You had to know. You took a sip of your drink and put away your phone, drawing in a deep breath in hopes of gathering the courage to walk up to the bar and speak to him. You pulled out your digital voice recorder and stood on shaky legs, heading for the bar; only once you arrived, he’d left. You scanned your surroundings for him, but with no luck. You waited several minutes, thinking he might have gone to the bathroom, but after 20 minutes of biting your lip, you finally decided to question the bartender.

            “Do you know where he went?” you asked the lavishly tattooed Vin Diesel wannabe.

            “Which ‘he’ are you talkin’ about lady?” he asked.

            “The guy sitting in this stool. Beard, long black hair, blue eyes,” you explained.

            The bartender leaned over the counter, scowling down at you.

            “I didn’t into his eyes sweetheart, but to answer your question – he left,” the man said as he continued to clean out a glass mug.

            “I don’t suppose you know where he went,” you continued, praying for some shred of information.

            “Look, sweetheart, we only keep track of the drinks, not the customers,” fake Vin said, and began to walk away.

            Panicked, you decided you needed to provide him with some incentive. You pulled a $50 out of your wallet and waved it at him.

            “Will this help your memory?” you asked.

            The bartender reached for the money, but you pulled it back.

            “Information first,” you insisted.

            “What are ya? Some kind of stalker,” he asked.

            “No, I’m a reporter,” you said.

            He chuckled.

            “Even worse,” he continued, “Ok, Lois Lane, your guy comes in here every Tuesday and Thursday. He orders a couple of drinks and heads out.”

            “Do you know where he lives?” you asked.

            “We’re not exactly on a first name basis, but I do know he walks here,” the man said.

            You handed him the $50, thanked him for his trouble, and made a hasty exit. You headed to your car, which was parked on Market Street. As you passed a small alleyway, a pair of strong arms yanked you off the street and pushed you against the brick wall behind you. You readied yourself for a fight until you saw Bucky Barnes standing in front of you with a pissed off look on his face. Then your both your body and your mind froze.

            “Oh…Hello,” you said, your voice sounding like a teenager talking to her crush for the first time.

            “Why are you following me?” he asked, his jaw tightening even more with each word he spoke.

            You swallowed hard to give yourself time to answer him.

            “I’m... I’m a reporter. I wanted to do a story on The Winter Soldier,” you blurted out, hoping you made some level of sense when you spoke.

            Bucky frowned at you.

            “He’s dead,” said Bucky as he glared at you.

            “How about the World War II Brooklyn boy living in the modern world?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

            His scowl grew even harder.

            “He’s dead too,” Bucky says, “You need to move on.”

            Bucky released your shoulders from his grasp and stepped backward. You only then realized that your skin grew cold with his increased distance from you.

            “Have you? Have you moved on from being a regular guy, then a trained assassin, to, well, whatever you call yourself now?”

            Bucky chuckles.

            “I call myself Bucky,” he growled as he started to walk away.

            Scared to lose the opportunity, you ran after him, grabbing ahold of his black leather jacket and yanking him back toward you. Bucky looked down at the hand clutching his jacket, then back up into your eyes. You refused to let go.

            “Please. Just give me a chance. Why are you in Frederick?” you asked.

            You finally released his jacket and looked up at him. The man towered over you. You should have been intimidated or terrified, but you weren’t. Something else lurked deep inside that you refused to admit. You felt drawn to this man even more now that he’d become real and not some photograph you stared at for longer than necessary.

            “That’s none of your business,” he growled, “Look, I still have people that want me dead. Chasing after me is dangerous, so go away before you get yourself into more trouble than you can handle!”

            “I can take care myself,” you asserted, “A little danger doesn’t scare me.”

            Your body froze, as he looked you up and down again. He seemed angry and you didn’t want to push your luck with him.

            “It should,” he added, walking away from you and slipping into the night.

            You tried to follow him, but you lost him in the throng of people walking up and down the street.

            “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you said to yourself.

 

***

 

            Thursday night arrived with the threat of a thunderstorm brewing on the horizon. The ominous mood seemed appropriate as you prepared yourself for another confrontation with Mr. Barnes. A part of you worried that he wouldn’t show up at the bar, but you chose to be optimistic.

            On this night, you decided to dress less like a female Indiana Jones and more like a woman meeting a man for a first date. You were going to a bar after all. You needed to blend in as much as possible. You pulled on a body-hugging black dress and slipped into a pair of high heels. You kept your running shoes in the large purse you carried; the one with the tape recorder and iPad inside. You were getting this story. You’d chase him down if necessary. He wouldn’t get away from you. Not this night.

 

***

 

            Bucky noticed you immediately. The black dress you wore on Thursday night left little to the imagination, and he’d spent the past two days imagining how it would feel to find himself balls deep in the cute little reporter that followed him all over town. The baggy shirt and pants you wore on Tuesday did nothing for your naturally voluptuous figure, but he did notice your full breasts, round hips, and soulful eyes.

            After your encounter in the alleyway, he found himself taking several cold showers, and discovered that it didn’t sate his desire for you. Instead, he closed his eyes and jerked off to the image of your tits bouncing up and down while you rode his cock to a glorious release. He imagined ramming into you from behind and grabbing ahold of your juicy round ass as he pounded himself deeper and deeper into you.

            Reason told him to stay away from the bar that night. He knew that you would show up again and he didn’t want to rush things with someone who appeared to be genuine and sweet. Then he saw your glowing skin, your full lips, and your delectable body in that black dress and he decided that he didn’t want to wait.

            He dropped a $20 bill at the bar and walked passed you as he headed out the door. His shoulder brushed against yours hard enough to force you to look up at him with an expression of surprise and anger.

            “I said stop following me,” Bucky demanded, and headed out the door to his apartment, knowing full well that you’d follow him.

            And you did.

****

            Though his footsteps were much faster than yours, you managed to keep up with the super soldier. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t running away, but you figured he just thought you would be too upset to chase after him after he’d dismissed you twice. He was wrong. You didn’t bother reaching for the extra pair of shoes in your purse. You just dug your heels into the concrete and kept going.

            You saw him run up the front steps of an older brick apartment building. You chased him as best you could, noting that the elevator stopped at the fourth floor. You pushed the button and waited for it to come back down. Nervous energy flowed through you as you made it to his floor and elevator doors opened.

            You saw him step into his apartment at the end of the hallway. You followed. Your ankles felt weak as you stood in front of his door, preparing to knock. A clatter down the opposite hallway stole your attention for a moment. You didn’t notice his door opening.

            Bucky quickly grabbed you by your right arm and dragged you into the tiny apartment. He pressed his forearm against your chest, but not enough to halt your breathing; just enough to keep you from moving and let you know that he had complete control over the situation.

            “You like dangerous men, don’t you?” he asked.

            “No,” you said.

            “Liar!” he added.

            “I want an interview,” you explained, feeling intensely hot as his breath nearly incinerated your skin.

            Bucky leaned in, his lips grazing your ear. You shuddered, trying to regain composure.

            “So you, you’re saying you didn’t follow me here because you want me to fuck you?” he whispered in your ear.

            To punctuate his statement, he pressed his crotch against you. You felt his cock twitch inside his jeans. Your core flooded with moisture at the thought of having sex with the mysterious stranger, but you were a professional. You had to get yourself together and focus on the task.

            “No…. I want an interview,” you repeated, not looking at him but feeling his eyes on you.

            He backed away a few inches and handed you your purse.

            “Pull out your tape recorder, turn it on, and sit it on the dresser,” he demanded.

            You followed his instructions, hitting the record button and sitting the machine on the dresser next to you.

            You couldn’t remember your first question. That information was on your iPad, but he hadn’t given you permission to get it out of your purse and you didn’t want to piss him off by making any sudden movements.

            “I don’t know if the recorder will catch everything we say,” you explained.

            Bucky approached you slowly, like a wolf catching the scent of its prey.

            “It’ll catch the important stuff,” said Bucky.

            He moved in a flash, pressing his body against yours and pinning you to the wall so hard it nearly took your breath away. You couldn’t move. You didn’t want to, and, honestly, where would you go?

            “What to you really want, Doll?” he asked as his beard scraped against your cheek.

            You couldn’t find your words. His touch sent tingles down your spine as his lips grazed your neck. He pressed his tactical belt between your legs. Your core was already soaking wet, but it nearly gushed at that point. You felt the sheath of his knife, the barrel of his gun, and his rock hard cock.

            “Pick which one me to use on you first, baby doll!” he growled in your ear.

            You don’t think.

            You respond.

            “Knife,” you moan.

            “Knife it is, Doll,” he said.

            Bucky pulled out the knife and twirled it skillfully in his hand. He stepped back to admire your dress right before he took the blade, placed it on the fabric above your cleavage, then brought it down; the sharp instrument slicing the dress down the center, from the collar to the hem at the bottom.

            You stood there, shivering, dress split open and exposing your black lace bra and matching panties. You panted: partly because of fear, but mostly because you were aroused. You let out a whimper as your breathing picked up.

            Bucky brought his knife up to your lips.

            “Shhh…pretty lady,” he whispered, “I would never do anything to damage this beautiful body of yours. Your clothes, however, are a different story.”

            He took the blade and slid it along your skin just enough to make it itch from the contact. You didn’t dare move while he did it. He slowly skimmed the blade from your navel up to the valley between your breasts. His eyes never left yours as he sawed your bra in half, letting your full breasts fall from their restraints. Bucky bit his lip as he gazed at your nipples. He then yanked the dress and bra off your shoulders and tossed the shredded clothing on the floor.

            Standing in only a pair of damp panties, you leaned against the wall hoping it would hold you up as you tried to process with what he was doing to you. Everything about it felt inappropriate, but also incredibly erotic. You wanted him. You fantasized about this moment, yet never believed it would happen. You didn’t know if he was capable of love or romance, but sex…you knew he was fully capable of sex.

            You licked your lips and noticed that he watched your movements with determination. You wanted him to claim your body. You wanted it to be rough and wrong, and hot. You wanted his dick buried so deep inside you, that he’d need to use GPS to find it again.

            Bucky slid the knife back into its sheath and threw it onto a nearby table.

            “What next?” he asked.

            “The gun,” you replied, not knowing what he would do with it and not really caring at that moment.

            Bucky removed his tactical belt, putting the 9 mm handgun out of its holster. He removed the clip and the round in the chamber. Once he rendered the firearm safe, Bucky used his metal hand to pin both of your wrists to the wall above your head. He then placed the gun between your legs, your moistened panties already saturating the cold barrel. With slow, even strokes, he slid the weapon back and forth, creating friction against your swollen clit.

            Your arousal wound up tighter and tighter as you rode the cold metal of the gun. Bucky began kissing and nibbling on your neck and your head fell back against the wall, making a loud thud. Moans fell freely from your mouth as your hips bucked harder against the gun, taking you closer to a peak you weren’t ready to reach.

            Bucky leaned down, capturing your left nipple in his mouth and sucking on it. He then moved to the right nipple, giving it a bite before flicking the erect bud with his tongue. He kissed his way back up your quivering body to your ear.

            “Good girl,” he groaned, “Just don’t cum yet because this gun isn’t the only thing getting cocked tonight.”

            You closed your eyes at his words. Getting exactly what you wanted never felt so good. You opened your eyes to witness him pulling his Henley shirt over his head, exposing his bare chest. He then yanked his zipper down and removed his pants in one quick movement. His cock stood at attention, pointing directly at your core.

            He stalked up to you, giving you plenty of time to change your mind about all of this. You didn’t. Once he was within arms reach, you ran your fingers over the warm skin of his chest, and the cold metal of his shoulder. You leaned forward, placing several kisses to both flesh and steel.

            “Does it hurt?” you asked.

            “No,” he said, his voice more emotional than sensual.

            You ran your fingers up his collarbone to the base of his neck. You pulled him close. You wanted to feel his lips on you, but kissing is so intimate and personal. It requires emotion on some level and you didn’t know if he was ready for something like that. Without thinking any further, you said the first thing that came to mind.

            “Fuck me!” you ordered, the boldness surprising the both of you.

            “How?” he asked, his cock pressing against your panties.

            “Slow, deep,” you requested.

            Bucky nuzzled your cheek, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear, sliding a finger between your folds.

            “If you didn’t like dangerous men, you wouldn’t be so fucking wet. Tell me: What do I do with these?” he hissed as he tugged on your panties.

            “Rip them off,” you demanded, clutching his shoulders.

            Bucky pressed you against the wall again. You felt his metal hand reach down and rip the panties from your weeping sex. The elastic snapped, stinging your ass as he yanked them away and discarded them on the floor.

            He then lifted your right leg and positioned his cock at your entrance. Your breathing stopped as you waited for what felt like an eternity for him to slip into your heat.

            Bucky rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, teasing you slowly as he nibbled on your ear. His lips made their way to your cheek where they rested. Your heavy breathing matched his.

            “You sure?” he asked.

            “Yes,” you mewed.

            In that moment, his mouth latched onto yours just as he impaled you with his thick, hot cock. He bottomed out, hitting your G-spot and sending ripples of pleasure through your body. You screamed into his mouth as he moaned in yours. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he continued his slow, deep thrusts into you.

            He grabbed a fistful of your hair as his mouth continued to claim yours. Your arousal scented the air of the small apartment as your body made its slow ascent toward ecstasy. Your release built up inside you, threatening to burst at any moment. You tore you mouth from his long enough to scream his name.

            Your sweat saturated back smacked against the wall with each one of his thrusts. In that moment you knew that no man would ever be able to meet the standard of pleasure Bucky was giving you. Your moans and his grunts echoed throughout the room.

            “So fucking tight,” he said as he looked into your eyes, “So sweet.”

            You couldn’t speak. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he continued to slip in and out of you at an achingly slow pace. You wanted him to speed up; to finally send you over the edge, but he kept up his steady pace and it nearly drove you insane.

            “Harder, Bucky…Please. I want to come,” you pleaded with him.

            His pace quickened, but only slightly. You noticed his jaw tighten a little; a determined expression crossed his face. He planned to send your body reeling from pleasure, but only when he decided it would happen.

            The more you moaned, the faster he fucked you, your bodies now working in tandem to give you the release you so desperately needed. Your body began to shake as your pussy clenched his dick, milking it for every ounce of pleasure you could get from him. You held onto him as another thrust sent you over the top; your orgasm slamming into you and possessing your entire body, leaving you convulsing in his arms.

            A string of grateful curses fell from your lips as you tumbled over the edge, your orgasm shattering your body to pieces as you shook in his arms. His body then stiffened as he emptied himself inside of you, his muscles tensing as he held you tight to his chest.

            You both stood there for a moment, basking in the euphoria as you came down from your high. After several minutes, your breathing slowed and Bucky finally broke the silence.

            “Yeah…you like bad boys,” he said as he bit your earlobe.

            “I guess I do,” you panted into his right shoulder.

            Bucky lifted your chin.

            “Did I hurt you?” he asked earnestly.

            You shook your head.

            “No. You sliced my dress, though,” you told him, “What the hell am I going to wear home tonight?”

            Bucky chuckled as he hauled your naked body to his bare chest.

            “What makes you think you’re going home tonight, Doll?” Bucky said as he scooped you up and carried you to the bed.

            “I…figured that was all you wanted,” you told him.

            He pulled back the covers and slid under them with you, wrapping his right arm around your waist as you placed your head on his shoulder.

            “That wasn’t all I wanted. That was fucking. That’s what you wanted – what you needed,” he said stroking your cheek, “I wanted to make love to you, and I will – all day tomorrow.”

            You blushed, a part of you excited for what he had in store for you, another part wondering if your body could handle it.

            “And after that…you have another choice to make,” Bucky offered, “Run back home, or go on the run with me.”

            “I already know what I want,” you admit, “But you’re more than welcome to spend all day tomorrow convincing me.”

            Bucky pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

            “I plan on it,” he said.


End file.
